This past year, ever since we came back to the States, I've been all wrapped up in work for WiDo Publishing. It's our ten-year anniversary and we are very close to having our 100th book published.
We also started a new imprint, E.L. Marker, a hybrid company that offers traditional publishing services to self-publishing authors.
It's been a crazy busy year. The only writing I've done is journaling (my personal psychotherapy) and writing emails to authors whose work I'm editing and/or preparing for publication. So many emails.
I've edited a number of memoirs this year for both WiDo and E.L. Marker, and it's got me thinking about the writer's voice. In any kind of writing, voice will attract or repel readers. But in memoir it's especially important. If you dislike the voice of the narrator, you won't keep reading, since the memoir is about the narrator.
There a few tricks of the trade in editing a memoir to make the voice more appealing. Strangely enough, one of them is to tone it down. You might think, "But why? It's about this person so why not put as much personality in there as you can? So the reader can feel like they know them?"
A good question. The entire book is about the individual, in first person, their story, but it's also about other people they've included in their story. And those other people are part of what makes the memoir whole and balanced.
Putting in too much of the writer's personality, in the form of little asides or sarcasm or other types of humor, can quickly turn the reader off. It tends to make the narrator come across as self-absorbed and thus unlikable--the last thing we want to see happen in a memoir.
If you'd like to take a look at WiDo's selection of memoirs, click on this link to our bookstore and see the tab for Memoir.
Memoir is currently my favorite genre. I can't get enough of them, which I guess is why I've chosen to edit so many lately, rather than passing them along to other WiDo editors.
How do you feel about memoir, either writing or reading them?
Saturday, October 14, 2017
Friday, September 29, 2017
What Part Does Luck Play in Success?
Today I'm hosting Eric Trant as part of his WOW blog tour for his new novel, Risen. First, a little bit about this intriguing book, and then a really thoughtful and inspiring post as Eric guest blogs today on Coming Down the Mountain.
RISEN by Eric Trant
RISEN by Eric Trant
Haunted by visions of a demonic angel and sold into servitude by his father, young Alberto battles to survive the horrors of a nineteenth century Sicilian sulfur mine.
Suffering merciless brutality, Alberto must save not only himself but his deformed older brother, both pawns in their father’s mad plan to overthrow a group of wealthy landowners.
Bound by a death-debt to his hunchback master, Alberto discovers a door the miners call Porta dell’Inferno, the Door to Hell, deep within the sulfur mines. When he learns the demon-angel of his dreams stalks the caverns beyond the door, Alberto realizes a strange fate has lured him and his brother to the gates leading to the underworld.
Now Alberto must face the creature from his visions and rise to become the man his father demands him to be, or remain forever trapped in a hellish world where none escape.
Suffering merciless brutality, Alberto must save not only himself but his deformed older brother, both pawns in their father’s mad plan to overthrow a group of wealthy landowners.
Now Alberto must face the creature from his visions and rise to become the man his father demands him to be, or remain forever trapped in a hellish world where none escape.
Print Length: 182 Pages
Genre: Historical Supernatural Fiction
Publisher: WiDo Publishing (August 15, 2017)
Risen is available in print on Amazon.
Prepare for lightning
When it
comes to success in any discipline, we discuss things such education, talent
and experience, but something we only mention tangentially is the element of
~luck~.
Opportunity knocks softly. Fifteen minutes of fame. Every
dog has its day.
And so on.
We sense luck in our success and in our opportunities, but we do not openly
discuss and prepare for it.
For
instance, let's say you meet a well-known author-agent in a coffee shop. It is
a chance meeting, and by equal chance they are open to discussing your books
(they will usually trip you and run), and by monumental chance they represent
books in your genre, and by God's grace they are seeking a new author for an
open slot in their release schedule next year.
Would you be
ready for that stroke of luck? Are you prepared for lightning to strike?
Do not break the big break
See, success
requires a great deal of luck. Every successful story begins first with vision,
then with hard work crafting that vision into reality, and concludes with a
~big break~ that changes everything. Whether it is building a company or publishing
a book, I challenge you to find a success story that does not follow this
well-grooved arc.
So, you chat
with the agent. Her name is Rebecca. She is insanely pretty and kind of intimidating
because she smells like the mall, is sharply dressed and well-kempt, and totes a
purse that is probably more expensive than your Hyundai, and large enough to
bag it.
Not really.
She is an author-agent. She is wearing a workout shirt and yoga pants, no
makeup, hair in a ponytail, and she has two black labs tied up outside named
Joker and Puddin. She is short and a little pudgy, insanely pretty because of
her eyes (avid readers have amazing eyes), and her name really is Rebecca. Call
her Becki, with an 'i'. She is drinking a seventeen-syllable iced-something,
and she wants to go outside to sit, so she can water the pups.
It is summer
and muggy, but you follow her outside. You sit. This is your big break.
You spill
your coffee on her dogs.
After the strike
But you were
prepared for Becki, with an 'i'. She laughs and says it is no big deal, they
love to get wet, and you thank God Almighty you ordered iced mocha instead of
your usual scalding-hot Americana, another stroke of luck. A barista appears
with a towel, helps you with the dogs, takes the empty cup and says she will
bring you another drink, what was it you ordered?
Just a
mocha, iced.
Neither of
you brought your computer, and you do not carry your books around, so what do
you say to her?
Well, you
tell her about your books. You ~do~ have more than one book, don't you? Of
course you do. You wrote several, along with some short stories, and penned at
least a dozen total, not all of them published. You forget how many short stories.
A bunch.
Do you have
a blog? Absolutely. What about a fan page on Facebook? Not really, but you
belong to some online groups, and collected a fair number of followers.
What are
your sales like? Ouch. Still, you confess your sins, and she purses her bottom
lip, but then says, I might be able to fix that. Tell me what you are working
on next.
You pull out your elevator pitch, the one you began
practicing the instant you selected a working title for your WiP.
It is
tentatively called WISH. It's about a family implosion following the loss of a
toddler, and focuses on the five-year-old daughter, who meets a silly little
man sitting on a spring-fed well, and makes a wish she wishes she hadn't.
(That is my
next piece, actually. This is what I would say to Becki.)
Go on...
Go on, Becki
says.
You tell her
more about WISH, describe your current release, RISEN, from WiDo Publishing,
how you amped up your marketing and have now built a bit of a backlog you can
leverage for plus-one sales.
Nice, she
says.
Your respawned
iced mocha shows up. There is a pause as the barista asks if you need anything
else.
Afterward,
you sip and chat, and turn the discussion away from writing and toward personal
things. She has a husband who is an engineer like yourself. He is tall, though,
and played basketball in college. She had to throw that in, you suppose,
because you are not tall, and let's admit it, most engineers are short folks
who are good at math and bad at sports. He really is an exception.
At some
point, numbers and emails are exchanged, and she makes a full-request read for
your upcoming WISH novel, when you finish.
Give me a
month, you say.
No rush, she
says. I won't be able to look at it for another fifteen weeks. I'll queue it
up, though, so mark the date and don't forget me.
Luck is sudden and rare. Stay ready.
Otherwise, without all your preparation, a wet dog might be all luck remembers of you.
She says
that last part over her shoulder as she leashes her pups, and how could you
possibly forget her? This moment is scalded into your memory bank.
You rappel
from your cloud as she walks away with her dogs, stunned that luck slapped you
during your afternoon commute, thankful you stopped here and not the pub
(honoring your wife's firm request), and amazed that something like this
actually happened to someone like you.
Above all,
though, you are thankful you were prepared when luck tapped your shoulder.
About the Author:
Eric resides in Dallas, TX with his wife and children, where he writes and manages his own business. His writing combines literary characterization with supernatural elements, all the while engaging the reader's senses with constant movement and vivid settings. His books are designed to be one-sitters, meaning they can and should be read in one (or a few) sittings, owing to the fast-paced nature of the writing.
You can visit Eric at http://www.EricTrant.com, or see his blog at DiggingWithTheWorms.
Wednesday, April 12, 2017
On Having Too Much Stuff and Getting Rid of It
There's a link going around Facebook to an online article titled: "Sorry, Nobody Wants Your Parents' Stuff." Since I've been through it, both on the daughter/ daughter-in-law side as well as the mother/homeowner side, I could totally relate.
My mother and my mother-in-law were worlds apart regarding stuff and how to deal with it. Both were widows, and that's where the resemblance ended. My mother chose to downsize as much as she could, while my mother-in-law bought a larger house with more room for her possessions.
Being my mother's daughter and admiring simplicity, I am still fascinated with how my mother-in-law collected, stored, added on until it seemed she was buried under her stuff. Not that she was a junkaholic or hoarder. Her things were nice, often expensive, and usually well-organized. She had an entire room of her house for fabric, arranged like a retail fabric store. Another similar room for crafts and the supplies related to whatever crafts she'd done or planned to do. Another room for storage of food and household supplies. Two freezers held hundreds of pounds of cheese, butter, nuts and other deliciousness that would take two families a lifetime to consume.
On the contrary, my mother had as her goal to live in such a way that her daughters (the four of us) would not have to agonize over her possessions when she passed. The more she could get rid of, the happier she was. When she died, my sisters, nieces and nephews who lived nearby were able to completely empty Mom's two bedroom apartment in less than a week. My mom would have been pleased by that.
When my mother-in-law died, she had a 4000 sq foot house filled with furniture, family history documents and photos, and of course the many years worth of food storage. It took my sister-in-law a decade to completely go through everything and dispose of it one way or another.
I'm not saying one way is better than another. I think in a way my sister-in-law enjoyed her task, as she was able to spend this time going through all these things related to her mom's life and that of her family going back generations. And getting all the butter, cheese and nuts would have been nice.
But as for me, I'm more like my mom, taking pleasure in simplicity and knowing my kids won't be burdened with having to deal with piles of stuff when I'm gone. I've already done that job for them.
My husband and I currently live a very downsized existence. We got rid of nearly everything so we could leave the country three years ago. Now that we're back, neither of us want to start collecting again. Our goal is to stay free and unattached so we can pack up and go again when we feel like it.
This is our living room, a spare space furnished at very low cost. The most expensive thing we bought was the couch for $25.
I have a couple of antique wall hangings I plan on getting framed for those two bare walls. I know once we leave, my daughter will be happy to take them for her home. She's already told me where she would hang them.
We did buy the TV cabinet. My husband needed a place to keep office supplies so we got it for $15 at Restore. It's one of those brown things that nobody really wants anymore. And if they did, they'd paint it. Since painting stresses me out, I'm okay leaving it as is, although I admit it's too dark for my taste.
I paid $3.00 for the basil plant on the table. It's going to get repotted and put on the patio. And basil isn't permanent, except in beautiful Guatemala where it grows up into a year round tree of abundance. In Utah, it dies with the frost.
This was a pretty long blog post to talk about living simply. Clearly I have more words than I have stuff, which is exactly the way I like it.
My mother and my mother-in-law were worlds apart regarding stuff and how to deal with it. Both were widows, and that's where the resemblance ended. My mother chose to downsize as much as she could, while my mother-in-law bought a larger house with more room for her possessions.
Being my mother's daughter and admiring simplicity, I am still fascinated with how my mother-in-law collected, stored, added on until it seemed she was buried under her stuff. Not that she was a junkaholic or hoarder. Her things were nice, often expensive, and usually well-organized. She had an entire room of her house for fabric, arranged like a retail fabric store. Another similar room for crafts and the supplies related to whatever crafts she'd done or planned to do. Another room for storage of food and household supplies. Two freezers held hundreds of pounds of cheese, butter, nuts and other deliciousness that would take two families a lifetime to consume.
On the contrary, my mother had as her goal to live in such a way that her daughters (the four of us) would not have to agonize over her possessions when she passed. The more she could get rid of, the happier she was. When she died, my sisters, nieces and nephews who lived nearby were able to completely empty Mom's two bedroom apartment in less than a week. My mom would have been pleased by that.
When my mother-in-law died, she had a 4000 sq foot house filled with furniture, family history documents and photos, and of course the many years worth of food storage. It took my sister-in-law a decade to completely go through everything and dispose of it one way or another.
I'm not saying one way is better than another. I think in a way my sister-in-law enjoyed her task, as she was able to spend this time going through all these things related to her mom's life and that of her family going back generations. And getting all the butter, cheese and nuts would have been nice.
But as for me, I'm more like my mom, taking pleasure in simplicity and knowing my kids won't be burdened with having to deal with piles of stuff when I'm gone. I've already done that job for them.
My husband and I currently live a very downsized existence. We got rid of nearly everything so we could leave the country three years ago. Now that we're back, neither of us want to start collecting again. Our goal is to stay free and unattached so we can pack up and go again when we feel like it.
This is our living room, a spare space furnished at very low cost. The most expensive thing we bought was the couch for $25.
I have a couple of antique wall hangings I plan on getting framed for those two bare walls. I know once we leave, my daughter will be happy to take them for her home. She's already told me where she would hang them.
We did buy the TV cabinet. My husband needed a place to keep office supplies so we got it for $15 at Restore. It's one of those brown things that nobody really wants anymore. And if they did, they'd paint it. Since painting stresses me out, I'm okay leaving it as is, although I admit it's too dark for my taste.
I paid $3.00 for the basil plant on the table. It's going to get repotted and put on the patio. And basil isn't permanent, except in beautiful Guatemala where it grows up into a year round tree of abundance. In Utah, it dies with the frost.
This was a pretty long blog post to talk about living simply. Clearly I have more words than I have stuff, which is exactly the way I like it.
Wednesday, September 14, 2016
The Palenque Archeological Site and Why I Won't Go There Again
Bruce and I never made it to Guatemala's Tikal, the largest Maya ruins in Central America. We were determined not to miss Palenque in Mexico, considered to be a very large and important site in Chiapas, Mexico, and although not as large as Tikal, comparable to it.
We had visited other Maya ruins in both Guatemala and Chiapas. All the sites we'd been to before had been peaceful, tranquil settings, where I wanted to just sit and bask in the feelings of these ancient cities. We supposed we'd have a similar experience upon visiting Palenque, although on a grander and more glorious scale, making us really excited about the trip.
How surprised I was to find that Palenque was the opposite. No sooner did I step foot on the land than I had a compelling desire to leave. But we had traveled many miles to get here. My restless emotional state seemed silly. Nonetheless, I couldn't relax. I started walking and just kept going as fast as I could through the park, hardly stopping to look at the buildings.
People were climbing steps and wandering through the palaces on top of the structures. All I could do was follow the pathways around and through the site, giving just a quick glance around. Bruce wanted to go slowly and take photos, while I wanted to walk far and fast as quickly as possible. We agreed to meet at a central location in an hour and a half, at 11 am.
He took all the photos while I felt the frantic urge to just get away.
After thirty minutes I was done, wishing we'd set up our meeting time for earlier. I walked around the edge of the park to kill another thirty minutes, then wandered toward our meeting place hoping I'd run into Bruce.
At last I saw him with his ever present backpack and cowboy hat making his way down the stairs of one of the structures. I walked across the grassy area towards him, thinking how nice it was that we'd found each other ahead of schedule. I visualized the two of us running across the field in a joyous reunion.
On the contrary, Bruce plopped down heavily on the bottom step of the edifice. I couldn't bring myself to go to the structures I'd been avoiding for the past hour and sat down on a stump in the field. We were within shouting distance of each other so we conversed in loud voices.
"Are you ready to go?" I hollered.
"Almost, just need to rest a bit. I'm really tired," he said back in barely a whisper.
"What? I can't hear you."
He repeated himself loud enough for me to hear. A young couple walking hand in hand nearby must have thought we were crazy. Why were we shouting? Why not just sit together? What was wrong with us?
Always sensitive to what people were thinking about me, I forced myself to get up and go sit next to him. He told me how tired he was, how heavy his nearly empty backpack felt on his shoulders, how he had to rest a bit, then he'd be ready to leave.
Finally, we got out of there. Later, we reflected on our varied experiences. He had felt this strange, unbearable exhaustion and heaviness after exploring the structures, especially the tunnel pictured below. I'd felt an inexplicable need to get away. There were several other strange occurrences that I won't go into.
In the end, our conclusion was that bad things must have happened in this area those many centuries ago.
Anyone who wants to know more about Palenque can easily find information online. What I'm sharing is not ancient history but personal history, how the two of us felt very negative vibes coming from this place. A place I never want to visit ever again.
Has this sort of thing ever happened to you, where you felt terribly uncomfortable in an environment for no sensible reason?
We had visited other Maya ruins in both Guatemala and Chiapas. All the sites we'd been to before had been peaceful, tranquil settings, where I wanted to just sit and bask in the feelings of these ancient cities. We supposed we'd have a similar experience upon visiting Palenque, although on a grander and more glorious scale, making us really excited about the trip.
How surprised I was to find that Palenque was the opposite. No sooner did I step foot on the land than I had a compelling desire to leave. But we had traveled many miles to get here. My restless emotional state seemed silly. Nonetheless, I couldn't relax. I started walking and just kept going as fast as I could through the park, hardly stopping to look at the buildings.
People were climbing steps and wandering through the palaces on top of the structures. All I could do was follow the pathways around and through the site, giving just a quick glance around. Bruce wanted to go slowly and take photos, while I wanted to walk far and fast as quickly as possible. We agreed to meet at a central location in an hour and a half, at 11 am.
He took all the photos while I felt the frantic urge to just get away.
After thirty minutes I was done, wishing we'd set up our meeting time for earlier. I walked around the edge of the park to kill another thirty minutes, then wandered toward our meeting place hoping I'd run into Bruce.
At last I saw him with his ever present backpack and cowboy hat making his way down the stairs of one of the structures. I walked across the grassy area towards him, thinking how nice it was that we'd found each other ahead of schedule. I visualized the two of us running across the field in a joyous reunion.
On the contrary, Bruce plopped down heavily on the bottom step of the edifice. I couldn't bring myself to go to the structures I'd been avoiding for the past hour and sat down on a stump in the field. We were within shouting distance of each other so we conversed in loud voices."Are you ready to go?" I hollered.
"Almost, just need to rest a bit. I'm really tired," he said back in barely a whisper.
"What? I can't hear you."
He repeated himself loud enough for me to hear. A young couple walking hand in hand nearby must have thought we were crazy. Why were we shouting? Why not just sit together? What was wrong with us?
Always sensitive to what people were thinking about me, I forced myself to get up and go sit next to him. He told me how tired he was, how heavy his nearly empty backpack felt on his shoulders, how he had to rest a bit, then he'd be ready to leave.
Finally, we got out of there. Later, we reflected on our varied experiences. He had felt this strange, unbearable exhaustion and heaviness after exploring the structures, especially the tunnel pictured below. I'd felt an inexplicable need to get away. There were several other strange occurrences that I won't go into.
 |
| Picture of darkness |
Anyone who wants to know more about Palenque can easily find information online. What I'm sharing is not ancient history but personal history, how the two of us felt very negative vibes coming from this place. A place I never want to visit ever again.
Has this sort of thing ever happened to you, where you felt terribly uncomfortable in an environment for no sensible reason?
Tuesday, July 26, 2016
The Creative Pause
I don't believe in "writer's block." Although of course there are days when one's creativity is in full swing and others when it seems to disappear, when the writing doesn't go well for whatever reason.
I like to think of those periods as a pause in creativity. No block. Nothing I can't change when I'm good and ready, just a slight pause.
There's plenty to do when it happens, things that are part of a writer's work. Update the website. Read articles about the publishing business. Stay involved on social media. Organize files. Read books!
One nice thing about a creative pause is feeling like a normal person instead of a slave to whatever book is after you, pushing itself to get written. You can relax and enjoy life instead of agonizing over every "wasted" moment not spent writing.
Writer's block has negative connotations. The creative pause is rather nice. It can be a welcome respite from the intense productivity that comes when creativity is in its fullness with its prodding, pushing, unrelentless attack on your time, talents and energy.
No need to dread the creative pause, is what I tell myself. Welcome and embrace it, enjoy it, make the most of it. Like all good things, it will come to an end in its own good time.
I like to think of those periods as a pause in creativity. No block. Nothing I can't change when I'm good and ready, just a slight pause.
There's plenty to do when it happens, things that are part of a writer's work. Update the website. Read articles about the publishing business. Stay involved on social media. Organize files. Read books!
One nice thing about a creative pause is feeling like a normal person instead of a slave to whatever book is after you, pushing itself to get written. You can relax and enjoy life instead of agonizing over every "wasted" moment not spent writing.
Writer's block has negative connotations. The creative pause is rather nice. It can be a welcome respite from the intense productivity that comes when creativity is in its fullness with its prodding, pushing, unrelentless attack on your time, talents and energy.
No need to dread the creative pause, is what I tell myself. Welcome and embrace it, enjoy it, make the most of it. Like all good things, it will come to an end in its own good time.
Friday, July 1, 2016
Memoir Review: ACCIDENTAL SOLDIER: A Memoir of Service and Sacrifice in the Israel Defense Forces
…At age nineteen, Dorit Sasson, a dual American-Israeli citizen, was trying to make the status quo work as a college student―until she realized that if she didn’t distance herself from her neurotic, worrywart of a mother, she would become just like her.
This book caught my interest. I'm reviewing ACCIDENTAL SOLDIER as part of the WOW blog tour.
Genre: Memoir
Publisher: She Writes Press (June 14, 2016)
ISBN-10: 1631520350
Publisher: She Writes Press (June 14, 2016)
ISBN-10: 1631520350
ISBN-13: 978-1631520358
Amazon Link: click here
Book Summary:
At age nineteen, Dorit Sasson, a dual American-Israeli citizen, was trying to make the status quo work as a college student―until she realized that if she didn’t distance herself from her neurotic, worrywart of a mother, she would become just like her.
Accidental Soldier: A Memoir of Service and Sacrifice in the Israel Defense Forces is Sasson’s story of how she dropped out of college and volunteered for the Israel Defense Forces in an effort to change her life―and how, in stepping out of her comfort zone and into a war zone, she discovered courage and faith she didn’t know she was capable of.
Accidental Soldier: A Memoir of Service and Sacrifice in the Israel Defense Forces is Sasson’s story of how she dropped out of college and volunteered for the Israel Defense Forces in an effort to change her life―and how, in stepping out of her comfort zone and into a war zone, she discovered courage and faith she didn’t know she was capable of.
My review of ACCIDENTAL SOLDIER
Dorit's relationship with her mother is the motivating force for her decision to join the Israel Defense Forces, although her father's influence was a strong part of it as well. Her Israeli-born father, divorced from her mother and remarried, realizes if Dorit doesn't do something to break the unhealthy psychological ties with her mother, she may turn out just like her.
The mother in Dorit's story is a minor character in some ways, yet looms huge throughout the book due to her influence on Dorit. The mother is actually fascinating, one of those kinds of people you can't imagine functions in real life, yet you want to know every detail. If Dorit ever writes a memoir about her mother's life, that would be one not to miss.
Once Dorit is in Israel, my favorite parts of the book were her descriptions about the country and people. I found it interesting how she felt safe there, like the whole country had her back. And the citizens love their IDF, feeling like this strong group of committed soldiers has their back.
Altogether, this memoir has a fascinating dynamic, going from the dysfunctional family life Dorit experiences in New York City, to kibbutz life as an eighteen-year-old, and at last breaking into a strong independent adult as a member of the IDF.
Find Dorit Sasson Online:
Twitter: @VoicetoStory
Pinterest: https://www.
Wednesday, June 29, 2016
How It Used to Be for Women Writers
I went through a spell of reading books that were highly acclaimed back in the 1950s and 1960s. They were ones I had missed reading since in the 1950s I was a kid reading Nancy Drew and Beverly Cleary.
In the Sixties when I was in high school, my favorite books were Les Miserables, Great Expectations and David Copperfield. I loved my classics and had no interest in the current fiction of the day back then.
I won't name the books or writers I read during my recent catch-up phase. They were all extremely well-regarded, prize-winning novels by famous literary people.
And I could barely stomach them, giving me much fodder to reflect on how much the literary culture has changed since those days of the 1950s through the 1970s. And thank heavens for that.
As managing editor at WiDo, I can say unequivocally that if any one of those prize-winning novels had come to us as a submission, we'd have turned it down flat. They were that bad.
Hardly any story, themes that made no sense, unlikable characters. No heart, no soul. Yet these books and their famous authors were such a big deal back then.
In fifty plus years, the world of books is completely different. To me, that's a very good thing. I'm so thankful I got busy with marriage and children and didn't try to have a career in those days as a novelist. I'd have been shot down so bad I may have never recovered.
Women writers didn't fare too well in that era except in the romance genre. The literary giants were largely all men.
Women with literary aspirations instead would often attach themselves to literary men--college professors, published poets, playwrights and novelists--and the women would write their poetry, essays and stories, maybe teach and maybe get published in little literary magazines or win an award now and then.
What I did was write children's stories and sell them to magazines for kids. Not exactly literary aspirations but it kept me in the game.
Joyce Carol Oates was different. She is one of my heroes and favorite writers of all time. I'm not sure how much her books made though, compared to men writers of the same era. She continued working throughout her career as a college professor rather than going full time as a writer. Either she loved to teach or she needed the financial security it provided, who can say.
JK Rowling, still using her initials since the publisher didn't figure the book would sell if people thought the author was a woman, changed all that. She gave women writers a voice.
Every woman writing and publishing today owes a debt of gratitude to JK Rowling. She opened up the era of publishers actually believing women could write outside of the romance genre and do it very, very well.
On the heels of the Harry Potter phenomenon came the Kindle revolution, further giving women an outlet for their work via self-publishing. The Kindle revolution along with POD publishing also provided the means for many small publishers like WiDo to remain profitable.
Many of these small publishers have overwhelmingly embraced female authors, and given older women a chance as well. One of WiDo's bestselling books is In the Mirror: A Memoir of Shattered Secrets by Ann Carbine Best, published when Ann was 72.
Now books written by women rule the bestseller lists. For those of us my age who clearly remember the way it used to be, this is pretty awesome.
In the Sixties when I was in high school, my favorite books were Les Miserables, Great Expectations and David Copperfield. I loved my classics and had no interest in the current fiction of the day back then.
I won't name the books or writers I read during my recent catch-up phase. They were all extremely well-regarded, prize-winning novels by famous literary people.
And I could barely stomach them, giving me much fodder to reflect on how much the literary culture has changed since those days of the 1950s through the 1970s. And thank heavens for that.
As managing editor at WiDo, I can say unequivocally that if any one of those prize-winning novels had come to us as a submission, we'd have turned it down flat. They were that bad.
Hardly any story, themes that made no sense, unlikable characters. No heart, no soul. Yet these books and their famous authors were such a big deal back then.
In fifty plus years, the world of books is completely different. To me, that's a very good thing. I'm so thankful I got busy with marriage and children and didn't try to have a career in those days as a novelist. I'd have been shot down so bad I may have never recovered.
Women writers didn't fare too well in that era except in the romance genre. The literary giants were largely all men.
Women with literary aspirations instead would often attach themselves to literary men--college professors, published poets, playwrights and novelists--and the women would write their poetry, essays and stories, maybe teach and maybe get published in little literary magazines or win an award now and then.
What I did was write children's stories and sell them to magazines for kids. Not exactly literary aspirations but it kept me in the game.
Joyce Carol Oates was different. She is one of my heroes and favorite writers of all time. I'm not sure how much her books made though, compared to men writers of the same era. She continued working throughout her career as a college professor rather than going full time as a writer. Either she loved to teach or she needed the financial security it provided, who can say.
JK Rowling, still using her initials since the publisher didn't figure the book would sell if people thought the author was a woman, changed all that. She gave women writers a voice.
Every woman writing and publishing today owes a debt of gratitude to JK Rowling. She opened up the era of publishers actually believing women could write outside of the romance genre and do it very, very well.
On the heels of the Harry Potter phenomenon came the Kindle revolution, further giving women an outlet for their work via self-publishing. The Kindle revolution along with POD publishing also provided the means for many small publishers like WiDo to remain profitable.
Many of these small publishers have overwhelmingly embraced female authors, and given older women a chance as well. One of WiDo's bestselling books is In the Mirror: A Memoir of Shattered Secrets by Ann Carbine Best, published when Ann was 72.
Now books written by women rule the bestseller lists. For those of us my age who clearly remember the way it used to be, this is pretty awesome.
Thursday, May 26, 2016
Wall Art of Comitan
Comitan is a great walking city. There are wide sidewalks stretching off into interesting places, and often hordes of other people around strolling, shopping, visiting. My husband and I have been all over town and not once felt anything but safe. He takes his camera when he goes and especially enjoys taking pictures of the wall art that's everywhere.
I thought I'd post a few of my favorites. This leopard is the winner, followed by the snake. The leopard is regal and majestic, the snake just cute and friendly.
It's amazing to me how an artist can paint on such a large canvas as a wall, with great detail that one has to move far away to appreciate. How do they do it? And when do they do it? I've never seen anyone painting the walls, then one day it's done.
I'm glad the authorities don't go around arresting or fining anyone, or painting over their work. The artists don't get anything for their creations except the joy of doing it for public display. For the joy it gives them and gives those who see it as they go around town.
The scene below is painted on a wall in a children's park. It's so sweet and charming, illustrating the culture of an earlier time.
Ending with another depiction of an earlier era, the Aztec culture. We lived among the Mayan culture in Guatemala. Mexico is land of the Aztecs. They are much friendlier these days, thank goodness. And the food is amazing.
I thought I'd post a few of my favorites. This leopard is the winner, followed by the snake. The leopard is regal and majestic, the snake just cute and friendly.
It's amazing to me how an artist can paint on such a large canvas as a wall, with great detail that one has to move far away to appreciate. How do they do it? And when do they do it? I've never seen anyone painting the walls, then one day it's done.
I'm glad the authorities don't go around arresting or fining anyone, or painting over their work. The artists don't get anything for their creations except the joy of doing it for public display. For the joy it gives them and gives those who see it as they go around town.
The scene below is painted on a wall in a children's park. It's so sweet and charming, illustrating the culture of an earlier time.
Ending with another depiction of an earlier era, the Aztec culture. We lived among the Mayan culture in Guatemala. Mexico is land of the Aztecs. They are much friendlier these days, thank goodness. And the food is amazing.
Wednesday, May 11, 2016
Our Guatemala Experience
I'm currently working on a book about our Guatemala experience. We sold everything we had, moved to Guatemala and stayed there two years. Right now we live in Mexico, and yet Guatemala is fresh on my mind. I can't write fast enough. There's so much that happened to us, so much to write about.
I published a blog post on my website, an excerpt from the book, here. They say writing a memoir is painful. I certainly felt that with my self-help memoir, as I wrote about on my last post.
I'm not feeling that kind of pain with this new project. Mostly just an urgency to get it all down before the memories fade away.
I published a blog post on my website, an excerpt from the book, here. They say writing a memoir is painful. I certainly felt that with my self-help memoir, as I wrote about on my last post.
I'm not feeling that kind of pain with this new project. Mostly just an urgency to get it all down before the memories fade away.
Thursday, March 31, 2016
A Writer's Story: AN INCREDIBLE TALENT FOR EXISTING
I am participating in the WOW! Women on Writing tour for a memoir that every writer needs to read. It's called An Incredible Talent for Existing: A Writer's Story by Pamela Jane. Intrigued? I was! My review follows the book information:
A Young woman longs for an idyllic past, despite her revolutionary
belief that everything that exists must be destroyed.
Paperback: 246 pages
Genre:
Memoir
Publisher: Open Books Press (February 1, 2016)
ISBN-10: 1941799213
Publisher: Open Books Press (February 1, 2016)
ISBN-10: 1941799213
ISBN-13: 978-1941799215
Book Summary:
“An Incredible Talent For
Existing: A Writer’s Story” summary:
It is 1965, the era of love, light and revolution. While the
romantic narrator imagines a bucolic future in an old country house with
children running through the dappled sunlight, her husband plots to organize a
revolution and fight a guerrilla war in the Catskills.
Their
fantasies are on a collision course.
The
clash of visions turns into an inner war of identities when the author embraces
radical feminism; she and her husband are comrades in revolution but combatants
in marriage; she is a woman warrior who spends her days sewing long silk
dresses reminiscent of a Henry James novel. One half of her isn't speaking to
the other half.
And
then, just when it seems that things cannot possibly get more explosive, her
wilderness cabin burns down and Pamela finds herself left with only the clothes
on her back.
From her vividly evoked existential childhood ("the only
way I would know for sure that I existed was if others lots of others
acknowledged it") to writing her first children's book on a sugar high
during a glucose tolerance test, Pamela Jane takes the reader along on a highly
entertaining personal, political, and psychological adventure.
I was especially intrigued by this memoir because 1) I'm a writer and writing--or not writing--is a theme of this book and 2) I also came of age during the mid 1960's, the time when most of the events occur.
I found Pamela Jane's account absolutely fascinating, where I started and finished it in an entire sitting, due entirely to the magical way she weaves her story. It begins with her childhood, where the main character "Pamie" creates ongoing stories in her head. This charming little girl evolves into a not so charming teen and college student but well...it was the times, wasn't it?
The narrative following Pamie into her nontraditional marriage and beyond is compelling. I found myself thinking more than once, "How is she ever going to get out of this fix?" And of course I had to keep reading to see what came next, where Pamie's choices would land her this time. From Connecticut to Michigan to Portland to New York to San Francisco and back to New York, following Pamie's life and loves is like a high speed trip across the U.S. during these volatile, changing decades of her young life.
And never leaving her side are the hopes of one day being a "real writer." One statement early in the book struck me as descriptive of a writer's life. These feelings came when she was a child, when the writing dream was just beginning: "Voices of the past sighed by me in the wind and whispered in the waiting fullness of the shadows." Voices that haunted her for years until she was able to give them words on paper.
With imagery that carries me to another time and place, descriptions that make the settings come alive to the senses, darkness laced with humor, this is a book not to miss. If you enjoy memoirs, if you are a writer yourself, if you want to get immersed into the era of the 1960's, then get this book!
My Review of An Incredible Talent for Existing
I was especially intrigued by this memoir because 1) I'm a writer and writing--or not writing--is a theme of this book and 2) I also came of age during the mid 1960's, the time when most of the events occur.
I found Pamela Jane's account absolutely fascinating, where I started and finished it in an entire sitting, due entirely to the magical way she weaves her story. It begins with her childhood, where the main character "Pamie" creates ongoing stories in her head. This charming little girl evolves into a not so charming teen and college student but well...it was the times, wasn't it?
The narrative following Pamie into her nontraditional marriage and beyond is compelling. I found myself thinking more than once, "How is she ever going to get out of this fix?" And of course I had to keep reading to see what came next, where Pamie's choices would land her this time. From Connecticut to Michigan to Portland to New York to San Francisco and back to New York, following Pamie's life and loves is like a high speed trip across the U.S. during these volatile, changing decades of her young life.
And never leaving her side are the hopes of one day being a "real writer." One statement early in the book struck me as descriptive of a writer's life. These feelings came when she was a child, when the writing dream was just beginning: "Voices of the past sighed by me in the wind and whispered in the waiting fullness of the shadows." Voices that haunted her for years until she was able to give them words on paper.
With imagery that carries me to another time and place, descriptions that make the settings come alive to the senses, darkness laced with humor, this is a book not to miss. If you enjoy memoirs, if you are a writer yourself, if you want to get immersed into the era of the 1960's, then get this book!
About the Author:
Pamela Jane has published
over twenty-five children’s books with Houghton Mifflin, Atheneum, Simon &
Schuster, Penguin-Putnam, and Harper. Her books include Noelle of
the Nutcracker illustrated by Jan Brett, Little Goblins
Ten illustrated by NY Times best-selling illustrator, Jane
Manning, and Little Elfie One (Harper 2015). Pride and Prejudice
and Kitties: A Cat-Lover’s Romp Through Jane Austen’s Classic (Skyhorse)
was featured in The Wall Street Journal, BBC America, The
Huffington Post, The New York Times Sunday Book Review and The
Daily Dot, and has just come out in paper. Pamela Jane has published short
stories and essays with The Philadelphia Inquirer, The Antigonish Review,
Literary Mama. Pamela Jane is a writer and editor for womensmemoirs.com
Below are three clips of her work:
Literary Mama:
Womensmemoirs:
Find Pamela Jane Online:
Twitter: @memoircoaching, @austencats
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